


Panic! In the Simulation Room

by WindyWordz



Series: This is Gospel [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, That's it, This is so heavily self-indulgent, actually there's snide comments and hand-to-hand fighting, and Lance helping him out, but that's to be expected, literally I just wanted to write Keith having a panic attack, rated T for mildly graphic depictions panic attacks and violence, that's the whole oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:51:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8258419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindyWordz/pseuds/WindyWordz
Summary: Keith overworks himself into a panic attack and Lance helps him through it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's very quickly referenced that Keith and Lance had gotten into a fight before this takes place and had been giving each other the cold shoulder.
> 
> If you want to tag/show me in anything relating to this story, my tumblr is Sasaina-Ai.tumblr.com

He's in the training room when his body finally gives up on him.

Keith's on round twenty-seven of level five, and he just has to make it to round thirty and he'll be on the same level as Shiro. He dodges another flurry of strikes, blocking or completely deflecting them as he dances backwards. There's a stitch in his side from about thirteen rounds ago that he's been ignoring, but now it feels like he had Sendak's giant claw digging in between his ribs, tearing at the muscle there. He breathes through the pain and ignores it. He rushes the gladiator, dodging a strike and managing to land a couple before he's pushed back again. He quickly kicks out with a leg, aiming to swipe the dummy's out from under it, but it's too fast. It jumps over the swing of his limb, and it brings its sword down heavy on his own, which was above him with an automatic reaction. He grunts, feels the sinew holding his thigh muscles together strain and he barely manages not to fall to one knee before he shoves the Gladiator back with a sharp slice that marks as the killing bow, and it dissolves into particle fragments. He takes a moment to breathe, shallow and sluggish, every inhale tasting like blood, every exhale feeling like fire scorching the inside of his lung. He's still standing, for all intents and purposes, sword held ready before him in shaking hands.

"Dude, you're going to work yourself into a coma at this rate," came a voice towards the door, and Keith turned slowly, chest still heaving as he locked his knees to keep himself standing. His eyes landed on Lance, and while the other's comment had held the tone of their usual banter, his face wasn't matching up. His brow was furrowed too hard, his mouth pulled in too tight of a line, his eyes shadowed from the way he tucked his chin and studied the red paladin carefully from where he leaned on the doorway, arms crossed loosely over a perfectly functioning diaphragm.

"Oh, are we talking now?" Keith huffed, forcing himself to straighten. He ran his gloveless fingers through his bangs, trying to peel them away from his slick forehead. "Still bet I last longer than you."

Lance huffed and rolled his eyes, ignoring the jab about their mutual cold-shoulder up until now. " _Puh-leez!_ I could beat you easily in the sorry state you're in right now."

Keith quirked a brow and turned to face him, pulling on his own cocky smirk as he tipped his chin up, "Is that a threat?"

" _Cariño_ , it's a  _fact,_ " the brunet sneered back, a light coming back into his eyes when he lifted his head and pushed off from the wall. He's shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the bare chair that's sitting by the door, already striding forth with the intent to win, and Keith is elated. He deactivates his bayard and clips it to his belt, already readying his fighting stance as Lance stops a few feet away. He notes several openings already as the other 'puts up his dukes', as the brunet likes to say. They're staring at each other in silence for a few breaths; Keith's chest still heaving and Lance's eerily still as he pulls in his focus. Then he strikes.

It's an easy block; Keith saw the uppercut coming from a mile away. Lance always starts with it. Keith deflects, grabs the other's wrist and twists it behind his back. The usual technique he goes for, and one that Lance should know how to get out of by now with relative ease. He does, and Keith jumps back to avoid the blow, putting up his arms in time to block a punch before the palm of his fist strikes the other boy's chest. Lance stumbles backward with a solid "oof" that would have had Keith laughing if he wasn't trying to keep the ground steady under his feet. He sees Lance rush forward, and the dark-haired boy feigns a block before sidestepping, hands gripping Lance's outstretched arm and the back of his shirt as he uses the other boy's momentum in his favor. He flips him onto his back, hard. Lance gasps and lays stunned for a moment, then laughs a bit and pushes himself up to his elbows.

"Alright, now you're gunna get i-" He turns to jump to his feet, but when his eyes land on Keith's figure, his whole body freezes.

Keith is still standing, a few feet away from where he'd tossed his sparring partner and stumbled back a few steps. The world was still spinning and he couldn't get a solid enough grip on reality to ground himself. It felt like someone had made him drink gasoline and then lit it on fire; everything burned. He was struggling for breath, arms trembling, legs threatening to give way. And to Lance's horror, they did, in that briefest moment, folding under him like a stack of cards and Keith toppled over sideways to the ground. 

"Keith!" Lance calls out and rushes to his feet, sliding over to the other. Keith's eyes are open but unfocused, glazed over as he tries to remember what the proper steps for breathing are, but he can't recall them. Panic is starting to flare in his mind, and it only makes his body shake more as Lance slips his arms underneath him and pulls him part-ways into his lap, gently. "Jesus christ _,_ Keith, are you alright? Keith? Talk to me man, this isn't funny." But he can see the distance in the other's gaze, can see the inconsistency in which his lungs fumble to take in air, and Lance realizes that he's having a panic attack. Well, either a panic attack or a stroke, and honestly, as bad as it sounds, Lance was hoping it was the former. "Come on buddy, it's alright, look at me." 

He softly angles Keith's head to him, tries to get his tired and jittery eyes to focus on him, on his face, so that he registers the words coming out of Lance's mouth. "Breathe, idiot, come on. Can you hear me?" He searches Keith's face, but finds only distant fear in his eyes and his body is still shaking. Lance can feel his pulse hammering through his veins under his fingers, and gently sweeps a hand up to push back the other's soaked bangs."Focus on me. Hold your breath and count to five. You can do it." He waits a moment, and then see's Keith's gaze focus in a bit and his chest pauses its frantic pulsing before stuttering out like a bad transmission. "That's it, one, two, three, four, five. Now inhale until four and hold." He watches Keith take in breath, chest still jumping with the resistance against the soothing technique. He counts for him, so that he only has to focus on breathing. They do this repeatedly, and Lance doesn't keep track of the time they're sitting there, doesn't care to as he focuses on making sure Keith calms down.

An indefinite amount of time later, Keith is laying sagged and spent in Lance's arms, eyes half-lidded and exhaustion washing over him as it always did after attacks like that. Lance has one hand support his back, curling him up enough that he can lean on Lance's shoulder and let his head hang forward, trying to focus on breathing. 

"Shit dude, you almost gave  _me_ a panic attack," Lance mumbles from where he's rested his mouth in Keith's hair. His free hand reaches down and lays on top of one that lays limp over Keith's softly flexing abdomen. He gives the skin there a light squeeze, breathing out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding when he feels a weaker squeeze back.

" _L-Lo siento_ ," Keith says hoarsely, and Lance laughs that he's not only trying to say it in the brunet's mother tongue, but that he  _still_ managed to butcher the pronunciation.

Still, Lance gives a small shake of his head, "Don't worry about it, dude. Shit happens." He pulls back after a moment, looking down and seeing the other is beyond just drained. He's practically on the verge of sleep in Lance's arms, right there on the training room floor. "Hey, let's get you some food and then into bed. You can argue with me in the morning," he adds the last part when Keith opens his mouth to argue, shutting it again and giving Lance a weak glare, to which he earns a small smirk from the taller boy. "Now come on, let's get you some of that feast Hunk made that you missed because you decided to slowly kill yourself in here." 

Keith only grunted, and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. His legs started shaking immediately and Lance sighed. Before Keith could even give a squawk of protest, Lance had picked him up and easily shifted so Keith was laying sprawled against his back, the blue paladin's skinny arms surprisingly sturdy under his shaky legs. He could practically feel the other smirking before he allowed himself to relax against him, making sure Lance knew he was doing it begrudgingly.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Keith huffs out, loosely sliding his arms over Lance's shoulders and letting them hang there, his chin hooked over the juncture where his neck and shoulder met.

Lance gave a haughty laugh that echoed through the hall, "Oh ye of little faith. I am full of many tricks and talents-"

Keith cut him off with a very bland, "You got it from when I did it to you last month when you got shot, didn't you?"

"Wow,  _rude_ , not to mention narcissistic that you think you were the one I got it from."

"But you haven't actually denied that statement yet," and this time he knows Lance can feel his smirk with their cheeks pressed up together.

"Just shut up, we're bonding!"

"What? I don't remember bonding with you recently."

Lance's face flushed and he turned a bit to look at Keith as he continued down the hall, his voice pitched, cracking at the end of his statement in disbelief. "We had a bonding moment. I cradled you in my arms!"

"Oh, doesn't  _that_ sound familiar," Keith hummed.

Lance huffed back, "I will drop you, Kogane. Don't even test me."

"I sincerely doubt that you would but tonight is probably the one night I won't actually challenge you about it."

"That means I win!" Lance cheered, before the sound jumped several octaves into an undignified yelp when Keith reached over and pinched the skin just under his clavicle. "That hurts _,_ Keith!" He whined, unable to rub the twinging spot in fear of dropping his heavy passenger. 

Keith merely huffed and leaned back against the other, sighing a soft breath that sounded suspiciously like "Good" before the reached the kitchen.


End file.
